


Ghost

by eliniel



Series: Emet-Selch/WoL [20]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 14:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21411418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliniel/pseuds/eliniel
Summary: After defeating Hades in the Dying Gasp, the Warrior of Light finds herself dragged down by grief as she is plagued by visits from his ghost.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light
Series: Emet-Selch/WoL [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1423444
Comments: 10
Kudos: 74





	Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Elebuu gave me the idea :3

Around me, my friends were relieved- happy, even, after that final battle. There were no shortage of celebrations in those days immediately after. After I had... 

As the days passed, things had begun to return to- well, not quite  _ normal _ , but normal enough for them.

The Lightwardens had been defeated, the night restored to the First. The Calamity had been averted and the Ascian, Emet-Selch- no, Hades- was  _ dead _ . My  _ job _ had been done.

I knew that. I was reminded of it everywhere I went, in everything I did- as I trudged through my days with naught but  _ him _ and his cause on my mind. He had forced my hand in the end, pushing me to make that final blow, leaving me with more questions than answers. Leaving  _ me _ .

Not that we were very close to begin with, right? Until the day we had stood before each other in the Capitol building, I had never regarded him with anything other than suspicion, always wary of his motives, even after he had shared with us his story. His past. His truth. 

How...could I possibly miss someone who had wanted me dead?

When the Scions had commented that I was distant and withdrawn, I gave them a smile, figuring I should at least pretend that I was not grieving over an  _ Ascian _ of all people.

My mortal enemy, but a kindred spirit, nonetheless. 

My deeds weighed heavily on my shoulders. I thought for sure, my posture would become just as poor as his with the knowledge and sadness I now carried with me, daily.

But, when I entered my room one night, weeks after I’d thrown the axe through his chest, I found him  _ lounging _ in a chair at my dining table, feet kicked up onto the surface, looking more relaxed than I ever remembered seeing him. 

I tensed and furrowed my brow as he tilted his head back to look at me, though a part of me felt some measure of relief at the fact that he was here.  _ Alive. _

“Took you long enough, my dear hero.”

My hand flew to the rapier at my hip and the Ascian chuckled. I may have felt horrible for killing him, but he had still tried to kill me the last time we met face to face. 

“Now, now,” he began, golden eyes twinkling. “There will be no need for that.” I clenched my jaw and held my defensive stance as he dropped his feet to the floor and stood from the chair. He raised a brow as he took me in but shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

When he took a step towards me, the sword was out of its sheath in a moment, nearly touching his throat. He visibly swallowed and held up his hands in surrender, though the smirk never left his face. 

“How are you here?” I asked, eyes narrowing. “I killed- You were-”

“To put it plainly, hero,” he interjected as he breathed a laugh, taking a step forward into the tip of my weapon. My eyes widened as panic jolted inside of me. I tried to pull back but it was too late and-

The blade went right through his neck. 

Tears sprung to my eyes, quickly, unbidden. He just- why would he-

Hades began to laugh at my reaction.

I froze as confusion crossed my face. There was no blood. No wound. He was...fine?

“What…”

He came closer to me still, leaning down close to my face. So close, I should have been able to feel his breath on my face, but there was none. He laid a hand on my cheek, but I couldn’t feel the fabric of his glove, nor the warmth of his skin. 

“Not to worry, hero. I am nothing more than a manifestation of your mind’s eye,” he said, bluntly. “A trick of your own mind. A ghost, in a sense, come back to haunt you.”

I stumbled backwards, away from his hand- away from him. 

“Did you really think I’d returned, whole and hale?” he asked, his voice now cold and biting. He frowned for the first time since I’d entered the room. “Not after the way your Light tore through my chest.”

“You left me no choice,” I said to him- to my own mind, trying to rationalize what I’d done.

“Did you ever truly try?”

There it was. The creeping thought in the back of my mind laid bare. A truth I had not wanted to speak aloud.

I clenched my hand around the hilt of my rapier, looking to the ground, to the side...anywhere, just as long as I didn’t have to look at  _ him _ .

He huffed an exasperated laugh. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shake his head and place his hands on his hips. 

“You are far too easy to read, hero,” he said, quietly. I looked at him again, and he was looking towards my feet, a sad smile gracing his lips. “I can see your guilt plain as day. Even if you don’t want to tell anyone else the truth, you should at least do yourself the courtesy of admitting it to yourself.”

A silence stretched between us for long moments before I sheathed my sword and quickly turned away from him as my vision clouded with tears.

Not that it would matter. If he was truly a figment of my imagination, he would know anyway. 

When he chuckled again at the turmoil wrought in my mind, I clicked my tongue and stomped out of the room to find something to occupy my time until I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open. 

Over the weeks, he continued tormenting me, popping up in various places as I went about my day. Following me around the Crystarium as I ran errands, whispering my own thoughts in my ear with a cruel laugh.

It didn’t take long for the Scions to notice something wearing me down,  _ his _ voice making it hard to pretend I was fine. My guilt had started wearing me thin. Running me ragged.

He would speak to me often, and though his words were a reflection of what I was already thinking, harsh as they may be at times, I found myself conversing back in the quiet of my inn room, if only to hear the sound of his voice fill the emptiness inside of me.

He could not, as a manifestation of my own mind, offer me the answers to the questions I so intensely craved, but as I grew more recluse, my guilt weighing so heavy I was unable to pull myself from my bed some days, I found all I  _ really _ wanted was his company. 

Even if he was cruel.

Even if he wasn’t real. 

When had I grown so fond of him?

There were days, too, that an immense rage took over my body. 

He would descend on me with a vengeance, goading me, encouraging my anger. Laughing when I threw a chair at the wall with a force that splintered the wood, the wood clattering to the floor in pieces, then subsequently sitting next to me in silence, a pitying look in his eyes, as I dissolved into a puddle of tears and regret, telling him how sorry I was for not trying harder to understand. For disappointing him when he was simply looking for another way to complete his task. Begging for his forgiveness through my sobs as the conversations we’d had when he was alive played through my mind, over and over. 

How? How had I not seen it then, the look in his eyes, imploring me to  _ help _ him?

Had he  _ really _ wanted me dead?

Of course, though, absolution was something he could not provide when I did not have it in me to forgive myself.

Would he, anyway, if he were really there?

I decidedly started moving to the training yards when my anger took hold, to keep my destruction to a minimum. 

Dark clouds loomed over me that day as I took my frustration out on the practice dummy. The others had already taken their leave, complaining of the brewing storm that swirled above my head, wanting to be safe in the comfort of their rooms before it descended upon the city.

I found I did not care and so, I continued on without them completing combination after combination of spells and swings of my sword until my chest was heaving. I flipped backwards, putting distance between the straw figure and myself. I stumbled slightly, but raised my arm to wipe the sweat from my brow with my sleeve when I regained my balance.

“Shouldn’t you quit for the day?” his voice asked from behind me. I jumped, looking back at him with narrowed eyes. I found him staring up at the sky.

When had he-?

“Usually you do nothing but egg me on,” I said, trying to mask my surprise, as I turned back to the dummy. “I am not in the mood for your company today.”

It was almost laughable, wasn’t it? As if I hadn’t been talking to myself for  _ weeks _ , now I was telling my own mind to leave me be. 

I huffed an unamused laugh in response to myself and shook my head. I set my sword to the side and slid my hands into a pair of armored gloves. 

“Usually?” he asked, confusion in his voice.

I rolled my eyes and dropped into a stance. 

“As if you haven’t been tormenting for weeks,” I shot back as I propelled into my target with my shoulder, a small, labored grunt escaping my mouth with the impact. 

The Ascian fell silent again as I continued my drills, pushing myself  _ harder _ no matter how fast my heart beat or how badly my arms ached. 

Anything,  _ anything _ , to release this anger built up inside me. 

When the rain started falling, the coolness of it was refreshing on my skin, providing a small amount of relief.

When I was soaked, the ends of my hair dripping with water as it swung with my movement, he spoke again.

“You’re going to make yourself ill,” he said, his voice barely loud enough over the sound of the torrential downpour. 

“How nice of you to be  _ concerned _ ,” I said between pants as I pulled back for a moment. “But as a manifestation of my own mind, you should know that I am  _ not _ .”

I lunged forward again, fist poised to resume my drill. I heard a click of his tongue behind and before I knew what was happening, his hand was gripping my arm, forcefully spinning me to face him. My hair moved with me, plastering to my face with the movement as I froze, staring up at him with wide eyes, the rain beginning to soak into his clothes and drip off his chin.

He released my arm and frowned down at me, eyes inspecting my face for long moments as I gulped down heavy breaths. 

He’d never been able to touch me before-

“I’m gone for nothing more than a few months and this is what’s become of you?” he quipped with a shake of his head, the exasperation clear in his voice. “How the mighty have fallen.” My brow furrowed when he spoke, but words failed me. 

“I- I-”

He raised a brow as I struggled to say something. Anything. 

When I wasn’t able to respond, he reached to brush my dripping hair away from my face, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, hero.”

Slowly, still overcome with shock, I lifted my hands to his face, fingertips trailing up his jawbone, feeling his skin against mine. I threaded my fingers into his hair as my arms went around his neck. My hands fisted in his strands as tears rose to my eyes and I forced him to lean down to me, pressing his forehead to mine, a sob escaping my lips as I closed my eyes and relished the sensation of his touch.

He-he was here. He was alive.

He was  _ real. _

“Surely, my dear hero, you cannot be  _ this _ happy to see me with how things were left off,” he whispered, though I could  _ hear _ the smugness in his voice.

I huffed a laugh, relief flooding me. 

“You have...no idea.”


End file.
